Dice
by Starken Dark Feathers
Summary: Rand gets a little more than he bargained for when he loses to Mat in a game of dice. The price, however, is not so unpleasant. Light slash.


**Dice**

** Written by kowrieki**

Author's Note: These events, in the story's accordance, take place in the beginning of the fourth book.

Rand al'Thor's chamber was an utter mess.

Books in several different translations, some in languages he had never even heard of, lay scattered across the floor. Shards of glass still littered parts of the rich rugs, and the rich, crimson curtains were shredded at places where sword had slashed fabric. Not just any sword. _Callandor_, the _sa'angreal_ kept safe in Tear for longer than most cared to remember.

The dishevelment of the man proclaimed to be the Dragon Reborn surely matched the state of the room, fit for a High Lord of Tear. His face still revealed streaks of old sweat, and his dark red hair, its medium length tied back loosely, strayed in stringy bunches, frizzed and needing to be washed. However, his gray eyes did not show fatigue. Rather, they looked strong and thoughtful.

Rand stared at the paneled walls, not even noticing the fine pottery and ornaments of gold, silver, and Sea Folk porcelain. The events of last night would not leave his mind. The First's visit would have been enough

to leave any man dazed, but he had fought his own reflection. Not memories; he had fought himself, his mirror image that had somehow stepped out of the mirror itself. Three of them. And he had nearly died in the process of the battle.

"I'm going mad," he thought aloud, with a bitter laugh. "Mad, mad...and taking everyone bloody with me!" he muttered, rubbing his large hands through his hair, as if to fix the disarray. Apparently, it had not only happened in his chamber. No one had told him, but he could feel it. The same presence had followed Mat, and perhaps Perrin.

His connection with Perrin wasn't as strong as with Mat's, he couldn't be sure.

A loud, forceful knock came at the door. Rand was surprised Moiraine's tiny figure didn't waltz into the room after it. It was possibly one of the Aiel guardsman, or maybe Egwene. But their knocks weren't so…demanding. "Go away!" Rand shouted quickly. He was in no state to entertain the High Lords of Tear, with their foolish demands

and ridiculous propositions. He had no time for them. He was busy…planning. Something unexpected.

"Rand al'Thor," Mat's familiar voice growled from the other side of the door, "If you can't even let Mat Cauthon visit you, you truly must've gone mad already!" His words hit Rand hard, although they had not had the intention.

"Mat," Rand breathed with a sigh, the name so familiar yet so unused on his tongue. His best friend for the better part of his life, Mat had been acutely avoiding him. They had exchanged harsh words, before Mat had rid himself of the danmed dagger of Shadar Logoth. He hadn't quite forgiven Rand for that, or for fulfilling the prophecies. Mat

still belonged in Emond's Field, with all of his accusations of people and the world away from the Two Rivers. "Come in if you will, Mat, but you'd not like to hear the story to this mess," he called, his voice sounding raspy.

The door flew open, the fine wooden crashing against the high walls of the chamber, just as Rand finished speaking. Mat, his sandy hair pulled back as in much of a ponytail its length would allow, stood with his hands on his hips. Compared to Rand, his plain brown breeches, button-up farmer's shirt, and brown coat looked lordly. But he was nowhere near as imposing, nor tall, as his companion. His brown eyes were stern, though.

"Rand, the Dragon Reborn!" he called loudly, thrusting a finger at him. His face was scrunched in an overzealous glare. Suddenly, he broke into a grin. "You owe me a game of dice!" he proclaimed, hopping onto the grand bed, where Rand stared at him, gaping. His eyes glistened as he produced leather dice cups, rattling them. His grin almost faultered when he saw Rand's confused face, the eyes dancing from blue to gray. "Well, gather your luck! Its about time we sat and talked over something."

Rand grumbled and reached onto the floor, where a Stones board had landed in the madness of the previous night. He dropped it between him and Mat, a substitute for a bowl. Mat clicked his tongue against his teeth, but didn't talk. "We don't need to play dice to talk," Rand grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Mat was so odd lately. All he did was chase women and play dice.

Mat picked up his six dice, each marked with one to six dots on each side, and rattled them in a leather cup. Tossing them to land on the Stones board, he grinned. "The Dark One's Eyes. The highest or lowest, depending on the game," he said matter-of-factly, staring at the Stones. His eyes didn't flicker on their gaze. "What game, Rand?" he asked, his voice oddly level.

'_He's trying to stay calm_,' Rand thought bitterly. "What game are you playing, Mat?" he replied, equally as level, and his words had a double meaning. The look in Mat's face was startled; his eyes had flashed for a moment.

Mat sighed, and shrugged his shoulders with sharp exaggeration. "I never really thought, I just tossed the dice. Not much like me, though, not thinking of the gamble," he muttered, almost to himself. "Its best to think things through. Did you know that's what Perrin says? Perrin, who the girls think is as slow as he is broad!" his voice rose in volume,

and out of the mutterance.

Rand looked as him, placing his large hands in a grip around his ankles. Mat had copied his cross-legged position. Finally, Mat's dark eyes leveled with the cloudy gray pools. He grumbled. "What do you have to bet, Rand?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Frowning, Rand peered around. There was nothing of much good. The priceless statue of stag and wolf were dissolved, while carpet and grand fabric alike were ripped and shredded. He could not even spy a silver penny. "Not a copper, Mat. We don't need to play dice. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked finally.

Mat licked his lips, and his head bobbed in some sort of nod. "That's fine, Rand," he said quickly. "We can play anyway. But if I win, you still owe me something. If my toss wins, then I can ask you something, and you'll answer me in my da's own honesty. And no Aes Sedai 'truths', either, you hear me?" he said, chuckling, rattling the dice.

Rand was in shock. Mat was acting odd, and it didn't seem to have to do with any remaining trace of his illness. He didn't seem overtired, either. He seemed...eager. "And what if my toss wins?" he asked, trying to keep his confusion to himself. Mat looked at him as if the possibility was non-existent. "I am the Dragon Reborn, after all, as you like to say," he said with a smile.

Mat's eyes quickly darted to Rand from the dice cup, and back again. He shook out the dice onto the Stones table. He grinned. A gold crown winning toss. He passed the cups over to Rand. He hadn't bothered with a game; he knew Rand wouldn't come up with a single good toss in _any_ game.

Giving the leather dice cups a good shake, Rand couldn't believe what was going on. Mat was up to something. He had that look on his face, when he was about to play a nasty trick on someone. Letting the dice fly, Rand scowled. Two dice showed one's, the rest were assorted. It was a blank toss. He looked to Mat to see the youth grinning.

"Now, Rand, you owe me," said Mat, stretching lazily.

His thin body and disposition reminded Rand of a cat; a sly tomcat who saw a mouse to play with. His own suspicion sent a shiver up his spine. "What do you want?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

Mat looked to him so seriously that it was frightening. He leaned closer. "What do you think of my face, Rand?" he asked, his voice quavering slightly. The taller man didn't think Mat's voice could sound more melodic.

"Well…uh…" Rand stumbled over the question. Mat's _face_? What kind of question was that? "Its nice, I suppose," he answered, busying himself with wrapping a slightly tattered sheet around his bare torso. His loose breeches were sticky with old sweat, but he didn't feel like changing them now. "The girls seem to think enough of it."

Taking a quick glance, Rand could see a look of disappointment flash across Mat's face. He tried not to think about it as he stared at the Stones board. He didn't want to answer Mat's foolish questions. He gathered up the dice in his hand quickly, before his companion could say anything, and tossed them without the cups. Another blank toss.

Mat chuckled as he picked up the dice and imitated Rand, throwing them without the cups. Four sixes. It wasn't much, but it bet what Rand had thrown by far. He sighed, barely audible. "Rand, this time, don't give me any bloody answers that a three year old nephew could," he growled. "Have you ever kissed Egwene?"

Rand nearly jumped out his breeches. He looked at Mat, and could swear he was blushing. He had only seen Mat blush once, when Connie l'Aunon had kissed him on the cheek at seven years old. "I…I kissed her once, a long time ago. It was the Sunday of her twelfth year," he answered slowly, the memory dim in his mind. Those thoughts of home had not been important lately, not with all the responsibility resting on his shoulders, broad though they were.

Mat picked up the dice again, and dropped them into his dice cup. He looked as if he was to throw, when he paused, and looked at Rand. "Did you like it? When you kissed Egwene?" he asked, his voice more confident than before.

"No!" Rand cried, then turned crimson. He looked around, surprised at his own answer as much as Mat. "I mean…she's like a little sister. And it was only a little kiss, we barely touched lips," he said, stumbling over his words. He was in disbelief; how had Mat's question done that to him!

Mat smiled, a slow smile that spread across his face. "Would you answer questions without the dice then, Rand? Would you mind answering questions for me?" he asked, his voice thick with…something Rand couldn't place.

As nervous and flustered as Mat was making him, Rand nodded slightly. He didn't like how the dice always fell right for Mat, and never for him. It was like some sort of trick.

Mat shoved the Stones table, dice and all, off of the bed. The leather dice cups clattered after it, leaving the bed with just Rand and Mat, and the disarray of sheets, blankets, and quilts. His grin was forced, Rand could tell that much. His lips were quivering.

"Have you ever seen me kiss a girl, Rand?" Mat asked, his smile still maintained. It even looked a bit idiotic, when his voice was so cool. It reminded Rand of an Aes Sedai voice. That was enough to put him on guard.

Not even thinking, Rand nodded in certainty. "Plenty of times. You're always with women, even if you think I can't see you," he said jokingly, but his chuckle was cut short when Mat raised an eyebrow at him. Rand closed his eyes and reconsidered the question. Thoughts of Mat with his arm around a girl, thoughts with Mat whispering into some tavern maid's ear…Light, why did he have so many thoughts of Mat poking around in his head? But then he realized; he had never seen Mat actually kiss a girl. "No…" he finally replied, "I don't think I have."

Mat's grin slid into a small smile. "Let me show you something, Rand." He hurriedly removed his coat and his undid the buttons to his shirt. He pointed to a long, faded scar running across the majority of his chest. His eyes flickered to Rand for a moment, then back to his injury. "When I was sixteen, a girl from Watch Hill was in Emond's Field with her pa. She tried to kiss me, and I pushed her away, just to see her pa come out from the Winespring Inn, stumbling and all. His daughter was crying, and he came at me with a pocket dagger," he muttered, his eyebrows furrowed. "I was saving my first kiss for someone, and it wasn't some girl from Watch Hill." The youth took the shirt off completely, showing that the scar extended to his sides. He motioned for Rand to touch the scar. "It's the weirdest feeling thing I have on me," he said with a grin.

Rand sighed inwardly. Maybe Mat was going to ask for a favor, maybe he was trying to soften him up with a story about a scar. He saw Mat's eyes were eager, so he leaned forward, lying with his stomach touching the bed, to feel the scar. The silvery skin felt odd, but it was somehow pleasant. Glancing upwards to Mat's eyes, he said "Why didn't I know about this?"

Mat chuckled, and gripped Rand's wrist. "That's what you have to ask me? What about who I was saving my first kiss for?" Rand's eyes widened in panic as Mat leaned down towards him, his dark brown eyes leveling his own. "Rand al'Thor, the question I've been meaning to ask…can I kiss you?" he whispered, his voice sounding melodic once again.

Rand's mouth worked, but could produce no sound. Mat, kiss him! If it wasn't the bloody tavern ale speaking, than what was it? Mat had come into the chamber clean and presentable, certainly not smelling of any alcohol. Somehow, somehow…he found -himself- leaning towards Mat in return!

Their lips brushed against one another's first, barely touching at all. But Mat's lips, surprisingly soft and gentle, returned to Rand's. He kissed him gently, and the warmth spread from Rand's lips all the way to his knees. He could of sworn he felt Mat shaking.

"Light, Mat," whispered Rand as his friend pulled away. He was situated so he could see Mat only when he peered upwards. He looked up at the youth, his steel eyes wide. His stomach felt like an acrobat, and his face was flushed. Surely, surely that had just not happened! He couldn't find anything to say, but finally words drifted from his mouth. "Why…why haven't you asked that before?" his faced burned in embarrassment as he realized what he had said.

Mat chuckled, it sounded relieved somehow, and hauled Rand closer to him, so that his mass of red hair rest upon Mat's chest. "Are you saying I can ask for more?" he said in a shaky voice, his chin resting upon Rand's head.

Rand moaned as Mat's lips found his neck, and the other man's hand slid down his bare chest. He knew his face was flushed crimson, but at that point, he almost couldn't care. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and faced Mat. It was the first time he realized how much taller he was. Mat's face, too, was flushed. "Mat?" he asked, wishing his voice could sound more elegant.

Mat looked at him for moments that seemed much longer. "Lord Dragon, may I have permission to share this chamber with you for the day?" he asked formally. Suddenly, a huge grin was plastered on his face as he chuckled at himself. "That bloody Lord Dragon business, hey Rand? Let's just forget about that now."

Before Rand could respond, Mat was on top of him, his hardness evident as it pressed against Rand's. Mat kissed him quickly, and grinned like he had as a boy in the Two Rivers. "The time for talking is over, Rand al'Thor," he said in a growl, and began to haul down his breeches.

End


End file.
